there are good things
Today was not a very good day, either. Yesterday upset me a lot, and I stayed up too late because of it, and woke up sad. It is probably the culmination of a dozen small to middling things I wish were different (but which I have little ability to change, unless I want to change several huge things). I know I will ultimately be okay. But I hate it when I wake up sad; it's hard enough to get out of bed as it is.
But, also yesterday, because I was upset, I walked down to the lake and I found a spot under some trees, and I just sat. Well, I started a letter to Julia too, in the little notebook I carry with me. It's always cooler by the lake, and it was cooler than that under the trees, so I sat until I settled, watching bikers and dog walkers and various rowing classes go by. I like writing letters, too, especially when I'm someplace interesting by myself, because I describe what I see and I'm talking to my friends, and it feels like they're there with me. It always makes me feel better, even if I was already feeling pretty good.
Then this evening I was staring down the prospect of nothing-great for dinner again, and decided to just skip dinner (I had a healthy breakfast, and a healthy lunch), and go directly out for ice cream. It was very warm today, and my room at the top of the house seemed to bottle up all that warmness and hold it tight. Not even the cooling air of dusk made a difference.
But when I got to the ice cream shop (my favorite ice cream shop in part because it's pretty close and in part because their house-made ice cream is really, really good) I realized I couldn't just skip dinner and go directly for the sweets. Oops. So I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich on gluten-free bread, and instead of the white and bland two-slices sandwich I was expecting (bc when you pay the extra money for gf bread, you rarely get an equivalent in tastiness to the original bread on the menu), I had four slices of actually-delicious sandwich, and house-made ketchup, which I thought would be weird but was in fact fantastic. Oh man, that hit the spot. I sat at a table and read the weekly entertainment newspaper, and then I got a small ice cream cone (balsam pine flavored, one of my favorites) and read some more.
It was comfort food to the max, but it got me out the door and moving (the shop's about 3/4 of a mile away) and on my own but in a familiar space, and I came back feeling better.
I'm still up too late, but I will try to go to bed earlier than last night. Which shouldn't be very hard, considering.
But, also yesterday, because I was upset, I walked down to the lake and I found a spot under some trees, and I just sat. Well, I started a letter to Julia too, in the little notebook I carry with me. It's always cooler by the lake, and it was cooler than that under the trees, so I sat until I settled, watching bikers and dog walkers and various rowing classes go by. I like writing letters, too, especially when I'm someplace interesting by myself, because I describe what I see and I'm talking to my friends, and it feels like they're there with me. It always makes me feel better, even if I was already feeling pretty good.
Then this evening I was staring down the prospect of nothing-great for dinner again, and decided to just skip dinner (I had a healthy breakfast, and a healthy lunch), and go directly out for ice cream. It was very warm today, and my room at the top of the house seemed to bottle up all that warmness and hold it tight. Not even the cooling air of dusk made a difference.
But when I got to the ice cream shop (my favorite ice cream shop in part because it's pretty close and in part because their house-made ice cream is really, really good) I realized I couldn't just skip dinner and go directly for the sweets. Oops. So I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich on gluten-free bread, and instead of the white and bland two-slices sandwich I was expecting (bc when you pay the extra money for gf bread, you rarely get an equivalent in tastiness to the original bread on the menu), I had four slices of actually-delicious sandwich, and house-made ketchup, which I thought would be weird but was in fact fantastic. Oh man, that hit the spot. I sat at a table and read the weekly entertainment newspaper, and then I got a small ice cream cone (balsam pine flavored, one of my favorites) and read some more.
It was comfort food to the max, but it got me out the door and moving (the shop's about 3/4 of a mile away) and on my own but in a familiar space, and I came back feeling better.
I'm still up too late, but I will try to go to bed earlier than last night. Which shouldn't be very hard, considering.